


Delayed Reactions

by westyellowgroom



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westyellowgroom/pseuds/westyellowgroom
Summary: ABO/AU, Johnlock if you squint.Note: I wasn’t sure I was going to add this to ‘Plot Bunnies.’ I think I want to try this from Sherlock’s POV, now is the time to do so as I can be a right arse and the public can’t get near.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Delayed Reactions

My name is John Hamish Watson, and I am an Omega. I am not a typical Omega, oh no. Though I am on the smaller size which is typical for a male Omega, I carry more muscle than my fellow counterparts. I enjoyed playing rugby and football when I was younger and have always been athletic, long before I ever presented. My mother swore I would be an Alpha like my older sister Harry, both from my anger issues and other physical ‘attributes.’ After I presented, my father swore my mother had an affair as his seed could never have produced an Omega.

I started using suppressants to prevent my Heats just before my eighteenth birthday when I began university to study to become a doctor. Most Omega used the universities to meet a Mate, becoming Bonded and pregnant and dropping out of school to raise their families. My professors stated early on that my cycle was no excuse for me missing any classes. I found life easier without the stress associated with my Heat. At the time, the majority of the Alphas I came into contact with wanted an Omega to continue their family line; basically, a brood bitch to be kept barefoot and continually pregnant. I wanted more, I wanted to make a difference, I wanted to become a Doctor.

I joined the Army as they would help pay for me to become a surgeon. I continued using suppressants in the Army. Actually, they changed me over to a stronger version that eliminated most of my Omega scent as well, though not all. 

My first commanding officer was Major Robert Cartwright, a Beta, at the Northumberland Military Hospital. I spent eight months learning from him as he tended the wounded soldiers sent back from the wars.

After those eight months, I was deployed to the Kandahar region in Afghanistan. The camps many Alpha’s came sniffing around when I first arrived thinking I would present to any and all. They learned quickly that I was there to make a difference and not to find a Mate and I didn’t need any of their help during my Heats thank you very much. 

Eventually, a Beta nurse and I came to an agreement; she would come to me every week or two for ‘release.’ As an Omega male I produce no viable sperm so her getting pregnant from me was never an issue, that and I always used a condom anyway to prevent any STD’s. She enjoyed herself so much she spread the word, I ended up with a reputation with the Beta females in and around camp and a nickname, Three Continents Watson.

Ultimately, I drew the attention of my commanding officer, Major James Sholto, Alpha. After that, whenever he went out on assignment I was always taken along as a field medic. We grew close over several months and after one gruelling mission he asked if I would Bond with him. I asked him for 48 hours to think it over. If we Bonded, I would have to leave the Army, I was fond of him a lot but I liked what I was doing as well. Thankfully, I overheard the Major talking with a fellow Alpha officer later that same evening. He was bragging about how strong our future pups would be. The Major was going to keep me pregnant, knocking me up at every Heat until I was no longer fertile or perished in childbirth! His family had been in the military for several generations, I would produce the next, time after time after time. He cared nothing for me, just the strength of our combined genetic material.

The following morning, I turned down his offer to Bond most emphatically. Within the week, I was transferred over to another base in the Helmand province. Thankfully, I was never brought up on charges for breaking the Major’s nose.

Coronel Sebastian Moran, Alpha, the Commanding Officer at my new base apparently made it his personal mission to bed every female and Omega body under his control. He propositioned me several times during my first weeks there but I turned him down. After several more weeks, he started to hang outside the door to my quarters when my shifts ended.

Several weeks later, I found him naked, sprawled out on top of my bed waiting for me. I quickly grabbed what I needed to shower and asked that he remove himself by the time I had returned.

The next morning, one of the prostitutes in the near-by town was found ill-used and strangled to death.

Three weeks later, Coronel Moran was waiting naked in my quarters once again. This time he was still there when I returned from my shower. Moran tried to force himself on me. He was strong, but I was able to fight him off. In the end we were both bruised and bloodied but I managed to throw him out of my room. Both of us stark naked as he had shredded the robe I wore after my shower. By then other soldiers bunked in the area had gathered to witness our fight. Moran left furious without his clothes, I assumed he had not wanted witnesses. The Beta nurse who saw to my scrapes and bruises took swabs of the scratches, saliva and precum on my body as well as the samples from under my fingernails. When she was done, I felt so dirty I needed another shower.

The following morning a female Beta nurse was found raped and beaten unconscious in her bunk by her roommate who had worked the night shift. I managed her care myself and took multiple samples. The samples I sent for testing to the lab on base were ‘misplaced’ but no one realized I sent a duplicate set of samples to a lab in Kabul. I also sent the samples taken from my body to Kabul as well. I requested the results to be sent to the Field Marshals office for our region.

The female personnel travelled in pairs and a pair always seemed to be around after my shift change from then on. A few of the Beta men hung around the female bunks, volunteering for extra guard duty. The Coronel always seemed to be in the background wherever I went. I was sure he was just waiting for an opening to present himself to me again.

Two weeks after the attack on the nurse and I, Coronel Moran was taken into custody to be tried for multiple counts of rape, mutilation, and murder. Apparently, other samples containing Moran’s DNA were found on mutilated bodies everywhere he had been previously deployed. To this day I can still hear the shouted obscenities as he was hauled away in handcuffs, threatening to murder me, a lowly Omega, for ruining his life. We later heard he was given a dishonourable discharge and sent back to England to serve out a prison sentence.

Moran’s second in command, a Lieutenant Colonel James Mortimer, was given temporary control of our unit. Mortimer was a Beta who brooked no argument to his commands. One of the first orders after taking command was sex had to be consensual, no exceptions. Anyone breaking orders would be court marshalled.

Unknown to me, my reputation as a lover apparently followed me from Kandahar. Without Moran sniffing about me anymore, the female Beta on base felt comfortable to seek out comfort. Whenever I was at base, I rarely spent a night alone.

I was sent out on many missions as a field medic. My skills with a scalpel were as good as those with a gun. My fellow soldiers knew I would have their backs no matter the situation we found ourselves in. Our small unit were all awarded medals and I gained the rank of Captain after an exhausting mission where we liberated a member of the royal family from insurgents.

I spent six months recovering in England from the wound to my right thigh I sustained during that mission. My recovery, especially the physical therapy was intense and by the time I returned to my unit no one could detect a limp in my gait. 

Several months later, another Captain and I were co-leading a team into a local town when everything that could go wrong did. The lead car ran over an IED that exploded as well as a bomb next to it, killing everyone inside the vehicle and blocking any forward movement. At almost the same time, the rear car was disabled when it’s wheels broke through traps the four other vehicles traversed over without incident. The three remaining Humvee’s in our caravan were trapped between the two incapacitated vehicles. The hail of bullets started as soon as the dust settled.

As Captain Sean Carmichael was traveling in the lead vehicle, the rest of the team was looking to me for a solution to our situation. Thankfully, we were able to call for land and air support. Unfortunately, the closest helicopters were several minutes out and we had to fend for ourselves while awaiting their arrival. We returned fire, wounding and killing several of our tormentors.

The soldiers in the last vehicle abandoned it, using my vehicle, the fourth, as cover. Bullets were flying in from almost all directions at this point. None of the vehicles would be safe for very long. I spotted a brick wall in front of a bombed-out church not too far off to our rear and made the decision to relocate. Half the unit offered cover fire as the other half ran for the wall. They offered the rest cover when we moved. My Sargent, Bill Murray, sustained a wound to his bicep but otherwise we somehow made it to the church yard unscathed. 

We were holding our own until gunfire started raining down from a roof behind us. We were sitting ducks. An apt description of our situation would be the shooting gallery at the county fair and we were the targets. I gave the order to withdraw into what was left of the church itself, there were several arches and brickwork walls and bits of roof to shield us. 

While moving into the Church Private Clemens was hit in the thigh, it was while I was tending to his wound when I felt the upper left side of my chest seem to catch on fire. It took a moment to realize I had been shot. Sargent Bill Murray, a nurse under my command, slowed the bleeding and as such saved my life. I don’t remember much of the helicopter ride back to the base hospital. 

After I was shot in my dominant, left shoulder, the surgeons stopped the suppressants I was taking as they interfered with the pain medication I needed. Moreover, my wound had developed a serious infection, so much so, the doctors feared I would not recover. I should have had a Heat within the first two weeks of being off my suppressants, the time it would have taken my hormones to rebalance. But I didn’t go into Heat as expected. I was tested and the Doctors figured my Heat was somehow being inhibited by the stresses on my immune system due to the infection.

By that time, I had been on suppressants for over 16 of my 34 years. Not quite two years short of half of my life.

After being honourably discharged from the Army, I spent several weeks in London. The first two weeks I stayed with my Alpha sister Harriet and her Beta wife Clara. Every night, Harry would get so drunk she was convinced I was there to steal her wife away. The only story she seemed to recall from my time overseas was my reputation as a lover. My time with Harry and Clara was more taxing than being in a warzone, and I would know.

The depressing, beige, bed-sit I moved into was better than dealing with Harry and her psychosis on a daily basis but it was all I could afford on my Army pension. Harry did give me her cell phone when I left to keep in touch though. I was in the bed-sit for a few weeks when thoughts of eating a bullet started sounding better and better. By this time, I was an emotional wreck, I couldn’t be a surgeon, I couldn’t be a soldier and my hormones were such a mess I wasn’t even a proper Omega who could attract a Mate let alone have pups. Thankfully, I ran into Mike Stamford walking through the park on my way home from a therapy session. 

Mike introduced me to the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes, Alpha. Sherlock smelled fantastic, like no one I had ever met before. Most Alpha I had met up to then had smelled a bit ‘sour’ to me. Sherlock reminded me of honey, fresh mown grass and a faint hit of chemicals, he was intoxicating. He knew my history with just a look, he was intriguing. Infatuated, I agreed to look at a flat with him the following evening.

The night before I moved in, Sherlock’s brother Mycroft kidnaped me for a conversation. Mycroft seemed to know more about me then I knew about myself. He had a notebook with information about my latest therapy sessions and my trust issues, as well as my delayed Heat. Most discomforting was every detail of my time overseas both on and off the record. 

Mycroft made it his duty to talk to me about my intentions with his younger brother, frequently. I continually told him it was none of his concern. Mycroft’s scent was not quite that of a Beta, I could just smell the Omega beneath the cologne he used to finish masking what the suppressants couldn’t.

After moving in with Sherlock Holmes, I expected my Heats to start up as he oozed Alpha pheromones. Constantly. Course he did keep reminding me he was ‘married to his work’ and wasn’t interested in settling down. 

Through helping Sherlock with his work, I was introduced to a number of Alpha. Every time one would start to chat me up, Sherlock deduced every embarrassing detail he could to drive them away. The only Alpha Sherlock seemed to tolerate around me was DI Greg Lestrade. Greg was married to a Beta woman, though his marriage was on the rocks as his wife had a tendency to cheat on him with a PE Teacher when he worked too long, which happened often during a hard case. 

Somehow, I still managed to date a few Beta women while we were living together. Of course, I met all of them through my work at a local clinic or the occasional pub nights when Greg had enough of work and his wife and needed a break. That and most of the time, well, all of the time, Sherlock would call or text me with a case or an endless succession of trivial questions.

A year into living with Sherlock I thought I felt the tingling start of a Heat. A day later James Moriarty had me strapped into a vest loaded with Semtex. Anxiety and stress have a tendency to delay or stop an oncoming Heat. The next few months, most of our cases dealt with Jim Moriarty in one form or another. The main exception was a case from Henry Knight near Baskerville was just as stressful if not more so.

After Sherlock committed suicide by jumping off the roof of Bart’s my OBGYN determined I was depressed. I gave up any hope of ever being normal again. I spent most of the next two years endeavouring to clear the name of my Alpha friend and former flatmate. Fighting the press and public was not easy but I was able to clear Sherlock’s name in the end.

About eight months before Sherlock rose from the dead, a new nurse started working at the clinic. Mary Morstan was a pretty blond Beta woman who never took no for an answer. She insinuated herself into my life, making it her mission to make me smile. She started by bringing me tea at regular intervals during the day. At lunch she sat next to me wherever I ended up, be it the breakroom, my office, or a bench in a local park. Eventually I gave in and we started dating. Sherlock made his grand re-entrance back into my life by pretending to be a waiter at the restaurant I was going to propose marriage to Miss Mary Morstan. To this day I’m not sure if I was angry, happy, or just so surprised to see him that I attacked him. I know I was pissed he couldn’t trust me enough to keep the secret he was alive for two years. 

Whatever cocktail of emotions I was feeling didn’t dissipate until I ended up in a bonfire and it was Sherlock Holmes who saved me. He saved me once again the day of my wedding to Mary. Sherlock had been outside smoking cigarette when Mary showed up at the church and deduced that she was pregnant. Sherlock and I both knew I couldn’t be the father being an Omega. Apparently, Mary didn’t know, or forgot, Omega ejaculate did not contain any sperm only excretions from the prostate. The testicles on male Omega have glands that produce ‘slick’ for when we go into Heat.

Sherlock helped me move back into Baker Street that very evening.

Two months later, we were doing the final paperwork for a case we helped DI Lestrade with when I felt a tell-tale tingle along my spine followed almost immediately by an abdominal cramp. Sherlock and Greg both sniffed the air and then looked at me in alarm. Next thing I know, Sherlock has his long wool coat wrapped around me and is growling at anyone and everyone who even thought about looking my way. 

I was going into Heat for the first time in eighteen years…


End file.
